


A Study in Self-Knowledge

by Tequila_Mockingbird



Series: Four by Four [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tequila_Mockingbird/pseuds/Tequila_Mockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows how the Animagus transformation works. Everyone knows what a Patronus means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Self-Knowledge

James knows it’s always been a part of him. That’s what it says in every single textbook—you can’t control or choose your Animagus form, not really, your Patronus shifts when your heart does, whether you want it to or not. And it’s not like he ever disliked deer, or anything, because from the moment he first saw Lily Evans produce a corporeal Patronus he was a pretty big fan of the family Cervidae. It’s just that he… well. When he was little and playing Auror, he was always James Potter the Amazing Animagus, capable of shifting into a different thing every week—a Welsh Green, a lynx, a dinosaur. He’s not really sure what it means, to be told by the immutable laws of magic that his soul is a herbivore that likes to butt heads. He guesses he’s always been stubborn.

And it’s not as if the rush of being an underage, unregistered Animagus isn’t there—he loves the giddy thrill of rule-breaking, the warm knowledge that he’s helping a friend. And there’s certainly something nice about running through the Forbidden Forest late at night with hooves instead of clumsy teenage boy-feet. But stags aren’t exactly the most subtle or convenient animals, are they? Not much good for dramatic battles or cunning espionage, having a rack of bloody antlers. So he mostly changes on full moon nights, and laughs when Sirius calls him Prongs, and daydreams sometimes, just a little, about being the very first dragon Animagus ever to live… but James is fine with it, honest. And of course, deep down, everyone knows you can’t change who you really are.

* * *

 

Sirius knows it’s always been a part of him, the dumb animal begging to be loved back. His mother slapped him full across the face for the first time when he was seven years old, after all, and how much of a... of a bloody _spaniel_ does he have to be to still love her, a little, after all these years? He goes for it wholeheartedly, lounging around the dorm room begging to have his stomach rubbed, cracking joke after joke about fleas, taking every excuse to lick his friends on the face—whether or not he’s Padfoot at the time. It’s so much easier seeing the world in black and white. Sometimes, he wishes he never has to change back. But Azkaban gets rid of that wish (of every wish) quickly enough. He guesses he had it coming.

It’s one thing to be a dog when you know you can be a person again five minutes later, but Sirius spends over a decade on four legs and even when he gets out he’s not sure he ever gets it right again. Do humans feel like snarling when someone touches their best friend in front of them? Do humans worry that Harry’s never coming back every single time he leaves the room? He’s afraid to be Padfoot and bad at being Sirius, and god, but it hurts less on four legs than it does on two. But all the same he relishes it, getting to use his words and wash his hands and eat something that isn’t a rat. He wakes up, sometimes, and can’t tell whether or not he’s a dog or a man, or even if it matters—he’s always known, deep down, you can’t change who you really are.

* * *

 

Peter knows it must have always been inside of him—the Animagus transformation doesn’t lie. But God, he hates being a rat. Hates being even smaller, small enough to step on, small enough to be picked up and flung. The fact that he’s also small enough to slip in and out of things invisibly is something of a consolation prize—James certainly can’t eavesdrop on the professors, or get the Whomping Willow to let them through. But it’s a bitter kind of consolation prize, being convenient. He’d rather be terrifying. Powerful. The fact that it ends up saving his life, in the end… well. The universe loves irony. He guesses he does too, at this point.

Wormtail darts down into the sewers, a rat among rats, becomes a pet, becomes Scabbers, returns to the Dark Lord and is a human again—like finally taking off a coat that doesn’t quite fit, like _freedom_ —but he’s still Wormtail, not Peter. Like he’s never quite able to stop being a rat, no matter how hard he tries, and it’s not like the metaphorical implications are especially subtle. He’s been a rat his whole life, no matter who or what he is on the outside, no matter who is friends are or what people call him. The Animagus transformation never lies, and everyone knows, deep down, you can’t change who you really are.

* * *

 

Remus knows it’s always inside of him. Even when the moon is gone from the sky and the wolf is farthest from the surface, that really just means it’s lurking in his bones. He can barely remember what it was like before the wolf, before his heart howled in lonely nights, before his hands hid claws. He tells himself he’s a man who turns into a wolf, not a wolf who disguises himself like a man, that there’s something fundamental which separates him from the likes of Fenrir Greyback, and he tries to believe it. Tries not to second-guess himself.

The first time he produced a corporeal Patronus he threw up. It’s not like he never noticed the coincidence of his name—the boy raised by wolves, the patronym a letter away from ‘wolflike,’ the boy whose father angered a werewolf. He tries not to give credence to Fate, avoids Divination and red meat, lies to himself as often as he can get away with it. In some ways, he’d almost rather skip the Wolfsbane potion, because at least without it he gets to wake up the next morning instead of sitting all night in four legs and fur, trying to ignore how comfortable it is. Because everyone knows you can’t change who you are, deep down.

That’s what frightens Remus so much.

**Author's Note:**

> What's a girl supposed to do with the fact that Remus Lupin's Patronus was (according to JKR) a wolf? I'm making the assumption that a person's Patronus (until and unless it shifts to reflect a serious emotional connection to another person) indicates the animal that they'd become if they were an Animagus, which I guess isn't explicitly stated in the books but seems pretty obvious to me?
> 
> Similarly I'm assuming that Lily's Patronus was a doe, which I think is... heavily implied, though again not officially stated, in DH.


End file.
